The rusted hinges screamed as the door inched open, each metallic shriek piercing my skull like an ice pick. I screwed my eyes shut against the searing pain, every throb of my pulse sending fresh waves of agony crashing through my head. Fragments of memory flickered behind my eyelids—the burn of cheap whiskey, raucous laughter, Michael's crooked grin as he slid another shot my way. I sent up a desperate prayer to any deity listening to make it stop, I’d do anything.
“Rise and shine, homeboy!” Michael’s voice sliced through the silence.
“Go away," I retorted weakly, pulling the blanket over my throbbing head as if it could shield me from reality. The world kept spinning in dizzying circles even behind my tightly shut eyelids.
The mattress dipped as Michael perched on the edge of the bed. "Oh, come on, I'm not gonna drag your sorry ass outta bed." Amusement colored his words, both infuriating and familiar. His fingers curled around the edge of my blanket fortress and tugged.
"I hate you," I ground out through clenched teeth. The world spun in dizzying spirals, even with my eyes screwed shut.
Michael's drawl rang out again, his accent thickening with barely-suppressed laughter. "If you don't get up by yourself, I'll have to bring out the big guns." I could picture the smirk on his face as clear as day, could practically feel the chill of the water bottle he no doubt brandished inches from my face. A cold dousing definitely wasn't on my agenda for this morning's hangover.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved myself upright, the searing pain in my head ratcheting up a notch with the movement. I squinted at the indistinct shapes of the room, each one blurring and wavering like a heat mirage. My tongue rasped against the roof of my mouth, as dry and rough as sandpaper. "Why...why do I listen to you?" I croaked, my stomach roiling with equal parts nausea and frustration.
My gut churned, threatening to spill over as Michael's chuckle grated against my hangover-raw nerves. The unspoken 'I told you so' thickened the air between us, as stifling as the stale reek of spilled beer and sweat that saturated the room. "Not like I forced that whiskey down your throat, man." His chin jerked toward the space behind me, a smug grin conquering his face. "Plus, looks like your night turned out pretty damn good, all things considered."
I blinked, bleary eyes struggling to focus, my stomach plummeting to my toes as my gaze landed on the woman sprawled across my bed. Her face was a blur, her name lost in the black hole of my memory. Panic clawed its way up my throat, burning the back of my tongue. The last thing I needed was to vomit on this poor girl.
I stumbled out of bed on unsteady legs, gripping the dresser for support as the room tilted and spun around me. My eyes darted down my body, taking in the wrinkled clothes that still clung to my frame. At least I was mostly dressed. A sigh shuddered out of me, equal parts relief and dread.
"Who the hell is she?" I croaked, swallowing back the acid that threatened to surge up my throat.
Michael's shrug offered no comfort, his smirk devoid of sympathy. "The chick from the bar who had you eating out of the palm of her hand. She stole your shirt after you made a fool of yourself. Lucy or Lacy, something like that."
The woman stirred, her hair tumbling in sleep-mussed waves around her bare shoulders as she pushed herself up on one elbow."It's Lilly, actually," she corrected, yawning and covering her mouth with the back of her hand, voice husky with lingering drowsiness. She tucked a stray dark curl behind her ear, her hazel eyes catching the light as she glanced up at Michael.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks under the weight of Michael's sidelong glance and growing shit-eating grin. He was enjoying my mortification far too much.
Lilly stretched with feline grace, tugging my pilfered shirt snug against her curves. A light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks became visible as she moved into the morning light, her full lips curving into a coy smile. "We met at Flannigan's Pub downtown," she clarified, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. "You were pretty sloshed, but in an endearing way. I didn't take advantage, scout's honor. Just helped your buddy here pour you into bed, and then...I guess I didn't feel like leaving. Hope that's alright?"
The scorching blush intensified as I raked my fingers through my disheveled hair, dredging my fractured memories for any clear recollection of our encounter. "I, uh... Shit, I'm sorry, it's all a blur," I mumbled, dropping my gaze to the scuffed hardwood floor. "I really hope I didn't make an ass out of myself. Or puke on your shoes."
Lilly's laugh, a sunbeam piercing the fog of my humiliation, filled the cramped confines of our dorm room. “You were a riot last night! Kept going on about Saturn and its moons. What do you say we try this again, with a little less whiskey next time?"
I cut a glare at Michael, but he just quirked an eyebrow, the picture of feigned innocence. "Sure," I said, the word tripping off my tongue before my brain could catch up. "Sounds perfect, as long as we skip the endless shots."
In response to my snappy comeback, Michael's laughter echoed off the bare walls of our room. "Good luck with that!"
Lost in a whirlpool of regret, tentative hope, and searing embarrassment, I hardly registered Lilly wriggling into her jeans, balancing on each foot in turn with the lithe grace of a dancer. She scooped up her shoes and tugged at the hem of my shirt, which hung loose on her slender frame. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I'm keeping this, just so you know. I dig your style."
She sauntered past Michael, who inclined his head in a gesture of respect. As she vanished down the hall, his voice chased after her: "Better check your phone, handsome. I'm looking forward to round two!"
The instant the door snicked shut behind her, Michael rounded on me, his face split by a Cheshire cat grin. "Damn, she's a firecracker! You get her digits?"
I fished my phone from my pocket, my heart sinking as I scrolled through my contacts. No new entries. I collapsed onto the bed, a groan seething between my teeth. "Nope. Missed my shot. But there's another rager tonight. Maybe she'll make an appearance."
"Attaboy," Michael said, his smile crooked and teasing. "Now haul ass and get dressed. Class starts in twenty, and for the love of God, put on some pants this time, dumbass." He spun to face my dresser and began pawing through the drawers.
At that moment, a buzz against my palm alerted me to an incoming text. As I scanned the message, a grin crept across my face, slow and unbidden.
"Hey handsome."
_________________________________________________________
“Did you take your pill today, bub?” Michael strode up, his backpack thumping against his shoulders with each step.
“Fuck, forgot it. Gotta go back,” I grumbled.
"Had a hunch you'd blank." Michael procured a capsule and a plastic bottle, offering them to me. "I've got your back."
“Thanks, babe,” I mumbled, popping the pill and taking a swig of water.
As Michael matched my pace, the tension radiating from him was a near-tangible force. I turned to him, my eyes narrowing. "What's your malfunction?"
He fidgeted with his cross necklace. “It's weird, man,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“What, hitting on you?” I shot back, irritation rising in my voice. “We’ve been making people think we’re gay for each other since we were kids. It’s a bit late in the game to tell me it makes you uncomfortable.”
His head swung from side to side. "Nah, not that. It's Emily, dude. She's got beef with..."
"Jesus, not this song and dance." My temper ignited, the words sharp-edged. "If she's shoving that holy roller crap down your throat, I swear to God..."
"Cool your jets, Alec! This ain't about the man upstairs putting the kibosh on queers." An exasperated sigh gusted from his lips. "She just doesn't dig our shtick, you feel me? Ain't a fan of the gag."
“Can’t she take a fucking joke?”
"Thinks it's outta pocket, is all." His eyes remained fixed on the ground as he forced out the words.
I stepped into his personal space, my stance a mocking threat. "You cruisin' for a bruisin' over this, pal?"
He backpedaled, a strained chuckle escaping him. "Ease up, psycho!"
A bitter edge cut through my laugh. "Christ on a cracker, man. Broad's trying to drive a wedge between us. You 'member when it was ride or die, just the two of us against the world?"
“No way,” Michael replied firmly. “We’re brothers, always. But yeah, we’ve got our own lives now.”
“You were always the mature one,” I scoffed, walking backward with a smirk. “See you at the party tonight, then?”
“Yeah!” He brightened. “Gonna behave yourself tonight?”
“Fuck that,” I smirked, walking backward. “I’ll be there, getting shit-faced. Smoke like a fish, drink like a chimney!”
___________________________________
I stumbled into the lecture hall, my entrance snagging Professor McCarrin's razor gaze. "Mr. Sumner, dim the lights, please," she commanded, her tone devoid of mirth.
"S-sorry, Ms. McCarrin. Rough night," I mumbled, flicking off the glaring fluorescents. She dissected me with her stare, her expression pinching. "Your nights seem consistently lengthy, Mr. Sumner. Without your exemplary test scores, I might question your dedication to astronomy."
The room fell silent as she continued her lecture. "Tonight, we're observing an extraordinary cosmic event. A group of near-Earth objects, or NEOs, will pass closely by. These bodies are astrophysical anomalies due to their radiation absorption properties, rendering them nearly invisible despite their proximity. Their material composition eludes us, but recent advances in optical and infrared astronomy have revealed intriguing characteristics. These asteroids display gaseous and particulate 'clouds' around their nuclei, approximately 0.25 miles in diameter. This phenomenon potentially mirrors the cryovolcanic eruptions on Io, induced by Jupiter's intense tidal forces."
With a click, an ancient projector whirred to life, casting a high-contrast image of Jupiter and its moon, Io. Dark masses, now identifiable as asteroids, stood out starkly against the luminous backdrop of the gas giant.
“Observe here,” she indicated with her laser pointer. “These objects exhibit full-spectrum radiation absorption, a characteristic observable through a combination of astrometry and spectral imaging in both visible and infrared wavelengths. We’ve deduced that each NEO comprises numerous smaller bodies, each with its own unique composition, suggesting a geologically active nature. Yet, their clustering behavior and potential interstellar origin raise questions about unknown gravitational dynamics, perhaps even influenced by dark matter.”
She paused, allowing the class to absorb the information. “These bodies are no longer in a stable orbit around Jupiter. Their trajectory and velocity suggest they’re moving at unprecedented speeds, currently passing through the asteroid belt, and bringing them closer to Earth than anticipated. Tonight, they’ll pass near Mars, providing us with an opportunity for closer observation and analysis. This event has garnered significant attention from the global astronomical community due to its potential implications for understanding dark matter and interstellar phenomena.”
Ms. McCarrin advanced to the next slide, further elaborating on the celestial objects. "These bodies have exited Jupiter's gravitational influence, indicating their incredible velocity. Remarkably, they will be nearer to Earth than Jupiter within a week, moving at enormous speeds. This evening, as they closely approach Mars, we'll have an once in a life time observational opportunity. This event has captivated the global astronomical community due to its extraordinary nature."
As I slouched in the lecture hall, Professor McCarrin's words about celestial phenomena faded to a distant hum, drowned out by the storm raging in my mind. My eyes glazed over the images of distant asteroids projected on the screen, my thoughts tangled elsewhere, snarled in the labyrinthine web of my past.
I drifted back to my childhood, to the sterile, antiseptic corridors of the pediatric oncology center in San Diego. That's where I met Michael. Amidst the constant beeping of monitors and hushed whispers of nurses, we forged a friendship under the shadow of our mortality. Just kids, grappling with life-threatening illnesses, yet finding an unexpected closeness in each other's company.
I vividly remembered the day we met. In group therapy, Michael cracked a morbid joke about dying, wildly inappropriate to most, but to me, a moment of genuine humor in a bleak situation. I was the only one who laughed, and that laugh marked the beginning of a lifelong friendship.
The two years Michael and I spent in the hospital seemed like a lifetime, and they forged a bond between us that was unyielding and deep. When we were finally released, it was a cocktail of relief and melancholy. Our homes sat on opposite coasts, and the thought of separation loomed over us like an ominous cloud. But fate, it seemed, had different plans. Our families, recognizing the strength of our friendship and its positive impact on our health, made the monumental decision to move closer. This allowed us to continue our journey together, not just as friends but as brothers in arms against the adversities we faced.
We enrolled in the same school, shared the same classes, and our free time was spent in each other's company. We even developed our own secret language, a private code that was ours alone. For a while, life was blissful, a rare respite in a world that had been unkind to us both.
And then, with a sickening crunch, it all came to an end. Michael's mother died in a car accident on a frigid winter night. I was there for him, offering support as his world unraveled. But his father, consumed by grief, turned to alcohol, and his life spiraled out of control. His descent into alcoholism was rapid and total, each day blurring into the next in a haze of liquor and despair. He became a ghost, a shadow of the man he once was, his life revolving around his next drink. Michael and I found ourselves caring for him, our lives consumed by this new responsibility, picking up pieces too heavy for our tender hands. Michael had to drop out of school and work to keep the lights on, relying on me for support.
The day Michael called to say "he's gone," referring to his father, it was an expected yet painful reality. Michael, now alone, declared himself an emancipated adult and asked to move in with my family. My parents welcomed him with open arms, refusing to accept any rent from him and giving him a space to heal.
Together, we navigated life, taking up jobs at local diners, ice cream parlors, and burger joints. We became known faces around town, and our hustle and ambition were evident in every step we took. Michael sold his father's house, a decision that brought with it a small financial relief. He used the money wisely, buying us vehicles and saving the rest. Eventually, we pooled our resources for college. Michael swapped his college roommate for me, ensuring we stayed together.
But then Emily entered Michael's life, and things began to change. He found faith, a path I couldn't follow, and our friendship began to shift. I found myself reminiscing about the bond we shared, rooted in shared trauma and profound connection. Yet, as people grow and change, I realized, so do relationships. We could drift apart, not because of any dramatic conflict, but simply because our paths were diverging.
But Michael's newfound zeal for converting me? That was a bridge too far. I flat out refused. I didn't need or want to follow in his footsteps. I was content living life on my own terms, without the need for salvation. Eventually, he came to terms with my stance, but it put a slight distance between us. I think he harbored some resentment over it. He had embraced this new life of his, while I held steadfast to my old ways.
Yet, this change in Michael didn’t dampen his love for social gatherings. He may have given up drinking, but his appetite for the party scene remained undiminished. He seemed to take a twisted pleasure in seeing the aftermath of my nights out—the hangovers that followed.
Speaking of which...
"Fuck," I groaned, massaging my throbbing temples as the hangover's vice grip threatened to crush my skull. Professor McCarrin's words drifted in and out of focus, my brain struggling to process her lecture through the haze of pain.
"...can't detect them with our usual tools. Their complete lack of visibility is the only clue..." Her voice faded, drowned out by the pounding in my head. I forced my eyes open, the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall stabbing into my retinas like white-hot needles.
A decision loomed before me, the weight of it settling in my gut like a lead ball. Michael's party beckoned, the promise of Lilly's warm embrace a siren's call I yearned to answer. But the once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event Professor McCarrin described tugged at my academic curiosity, a magnetic pull I couldn't ignore.
I shifted in my seat, the hard plastic digging into my back as I weighed my options. My dick throbbed, urging me to choose Lilly's supple curves over the cold, impersonal lens of a telescope.
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I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I debated the message to Lilly. The throbbing in my skull intensified, each pulse a reminder of the night before. Fragments of memory flickered through my mind - the burn of whiskey sliding down my throat, the press of bodies on the dance floor, Lilly's laughter ringing in my ears. But the weight of the decision settled heavy in my gut.
Professor McCarrin's words echoed in my head, tangling with the remnants of the hangover. An astronomical event, she'd said. Once-in-a-lifetime, she’d said. And the Prof wasn’t keen on embellishment, this meant something. The kind of thing that could rewrite the textbooks, change everything we thought we knew about the universe. And here I was, contemplating blowing it off for a party and some potential pussy. Fantastic, guaranteed pussy, more like… God dammit, Alec!
My thumb hovered over the keypad, the unsent message rolling through my brain. I could picture Lilly's face when she read it, the disappointment that would flicker in her eyes. But the pull of the unknown, the chance to witness something extraordinary, was impossible to ignore.
I typed out the message, my fingers clumsy on the screen. "can't make it 2nite so sorry important field work for class." I hit send before I could second-guess myself, the phone heavy in my hand.
"Now," McCarrin continued, "I have a stack of papers here detailing what we know about these objects. You're welcome to study them on your own, or join our group tonight for the observation." Her announcement stirred a buzz among the students, a tangible air of excitement filling the room. "Remember, folks, this could revolutionize our understanding of the universe!"
The phone buzzed in my pocket, Lilly's response no doubt. But I ignored it, my mind already racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead. The unknown, the unexplored, the chance to witness something that could change everything.
I shifted in my seat, the hard plastic digging into my back as I focused on Professor McCarrin's words. This was my choice, my decision. And I knew, deep down, that I'd made the right one.
__________________________________________
The night's celestial canvas painted a picture of ethereal beauty over the ocean's vast expanse. The full moon, a radiant pearl suspended in the inky heavens, bathed the world below in its argent luminescence. Its gentle light danced across the ocean's surface, each wave crest shimmering like a constellation of diamonds against the indigo depths. The stars, usually so distant and cold, seemed to pulse with a newfound vibrancy, their ancient light traversing unfathomable distances to caress the Earth with their faint glow.
On any other night, this cosmic splendor would have entranced me, leaving me breathless and awed by the sheer magnitude of the universe's wonders. But tonight, even this resplendent display faded into insignificance compared to the astonishing discovery that awaited me at the other end of my telescope.
As I peered through the eyepiece, my gaze was drawn to a peculiar sight that defied explanation. Against the star-studded backdrop, a collection of celestial objects swirled in an intricate dance, their movements suggesting a central point around which they orbited. It was as if I had stumbled upon a cosmic ballet, each asteroid a dancer waltzing to the silent music of the spheres.
My initial attempt to catalogue the individual asteroids proved an exercise in futility. Though relatively small, measuring only a few hundred feet in diameter, their sheer numbers confounded any effort to keep an accurate tally. They clustered together in swarms of fifty or sixty, their collective presence creating a dizzying spectacle of motion against the static backdrop of stars. A rough estimate placed their total count at over two hundred, a staggering figure that only deepened the mystery surrounding them.
But it was their behavior that truly defied explanation. The asteroids moved with a synchronicity that seemed to transcend the chaotic tumbling one would expect from such celestial wanderers. They spun and pirouetted in perfect unison, each cluster a troupe of celestial acrobats performing a meticulously choreographed routine. Collisions, which should have been frequent given their close proximity, were rare and fleeting, more akin to a momentary brush of hands between partners than the violent impacts typical of asteroid fields.
As I watched, enraptured by this cosmic dance, a sense of unease began to take root in my mind. In all my years of astronomical observation, I had never witnessed anything remotely resembling this phenomenon. The precision of their movements, the almost organic fluidity with which they navigated their shared space, hinted at a level of organization that defied the laws of celestial mechanics. It was as if some unseen intelligence guided their steps, an invisible conductor orchestrating this symphony of stone and starlight.
Leaning closer to the eyepiece, I squinted, straining to discern more details amidst the whirling maelstrom of asteroids. But before I could delve deeper into this cosmic enigma, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the spell, the sudden noise causing me to jerk back in surprise. The eyepiece jammed painfully against my eye socket, tears springing forth. Fumbling for the device with watering eyes, I glared at the screen. Michael. Of all the moments for him to call. I stabbed at the screen, accepting the call with an exasperated huff.
"Hey! Where are you? I'm at our usual spot, ready for tonight. Weren't you planning to see Lilly?" Michael's voice crackled through the speaker,
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I massaged my throbbing eye socket. "For the love of... Don't you ever check your texts?"
Michael chuckled on the other end. “Dunno why you bother sending them.”
"Because that's what our generation does, bro. We're practically wired to our phones," I retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Listen, I've got this crazy astronomy assignment. We might be looking at a new kind of interstellar body. Check this out, dude."
The words tumbled from my mouth in an excited rush as I relayed the details of the extraordinary astronomical phenomenon unfolding before my eyes. I described the peculiar behavior of the asteroids, the almost sentient quality of their movements, my voice rising with each revelation as the thrill of discovery coursed through my veins.
"Holy shit, dude, maybe it's aliens!" Michael exclaimed, his own excitement palpable even through the tinny speaker. "Can you imagine if we're actually seeing aliens? That would be freaking insane!"
The possibility hung on the line between us, a tantalizing thread of speculation that set my mind racing with the implications. "Yeah, it would be badass to actually meet one," I mused, my imagination conjuring visions of first contact, of standing face to face with an extraterrestrial intelligence.
Michael, ever the joker, replied with a sly tone, “Intimately? I mean, I could wingman you an alien, if that’s your thing.”
“You're such a perv, man. Go save that shit for Emily," I growled, shaking my head in mock disgust. “You think Jesus would approve of yo nasty shit?” Michael's laughter echoed through the line, but before he could fire off another wisecrack, I ended the call, eager to return my attention to the cosmic mystery that beckoned from above.
As I peered through the telescope lens, brow furrowed in concentration, a peculiar sight greeted me. Sparks of light emanated from the distant objects' edges at regular intervals. Could it be a solar reflection? A gas cloud, perhaps? The possibility of nascent comets crossed my mind, but their proximity to the sun contradicted the absence of tails.
I scribbled another note in my pad and then called out to the others in the group. “Hey, am I seeing things, or is there some kind of refraction coming off the edges of those things?”
I jotted another note in my pad and called out to the group, "Hey, is anyone else seeing this refraction coming off those things' edges, or am I imagining it?"
"Yes!" An excited voice yelled back. "It resembles the early stages of a comet's tail formation!"
A more skeptical voice chimed in, "But they're missing other comet-like characteristics."
“And they’re too damn close to the sun to not have tails by now. So what’s causing that?” I shouted back, puzzled.
"Exactly, and they're far too close to the sun to not have developed tails by now. So what's causing that light?" I shouted back, perplexed.
Professor McCarrin approached, her eyes growing wide as she inspected my telescope. She grabbed my notebook, leafing through it with interest. "Good observations, Alec. Condensed by gravity from passing near a black hole? An intriguing theory...but I think you've missed the mark. Remember, astronomy is as much about physics as it is about stargazing. Your physics could use some polishing."
Professor McCarrin's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she asked to use my telescope. "Do you mind if I take a look through your scope? I've been itching to try one of these."
I moved aside, nodding for her to go ahead. As she bent to peer through the eyepiece, I caught myself stealing glances at her. I had to admit, there was something about her that had always enthralled me. In the moonlight, her lithe figure seemed to emit an otherworldly luminescence, and I momentarily lost myself in admiration.
But her sudden outcry snapped me back to reality. "Hey! Are they changing direction?" Her voice, laced with urgency, jolted me.
The crowd around us gasped in unison as they grasped the gravity of the situation. "Oh no," someone murmured in disbelief. "Are those... rockets?"
A leaden sense of dread settled over me as the implications crystallized. Panic rippled among the students as Professor McCarrin, her voice heavy with shock and disbelief, confirmed our fears. "They're headed straight for us! This means... Oh, my God."
The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of awe and terror as we all wrestled with the reality unfolding before our eyes. The night sky, once a wellspring of wonder and beauty, had abruptly morphed into a harbinger of potentially cataclysmic events. In that moment, the true nature of the cosmic ballet I had witnessed earlier became starkly apparent—not a graceful interplay between celestial partners, but a calculated, ominous maneuver orchestrated by an unseen intelligence. The asteroids, once enigmatic wanderers of the void, now revealed themselves as instruments of destruction, propelled by an alien will that defied comprehension.
______________________________
Heart pounding, palms slick with sweat, I raced across the campus, clutching my phone in a white-knuckled grip. Michael's number flashed on the screen as I punched the call button over and over, each unanswered ring ratcheting up my panic.
I slammed through the fraternity house door with hurricane force, my frenzied gaze sweeping the common room until it snagged on Joe, who lounged on the couch in a cannabis-induced stupor.
"Where’s Michael?!" The words tore from my throat, raw and jagged.
Joe lifted his head with glacier speed, his red-rimmed eyes struggling to focus on me. "Uhhh...sorority house...with Emily, I think..." he slurred before taking a long toke from his glass pipe. Through a cloud of smoke, he thrust the bong in my direction. "Here man, take a hit. You need to relax."
I swatted his offer aside, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw ached. "Joe, your keys. Now." The words came out as a snarl, my desperation bleeding into every syllable.
Joe’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Why, dude?"
"Because you're gonna give them to me," I snapped, my tone brooking no argument. "Or I raid your stash. Your call."
Joe hesitated, his drug-addled mind struggling to process the situation. Then, with a muttered curse, he dug in his pocket and tossed the keys at me. They hit my palm with a cold, metallic weight. "Jesus, Alec. Fucking relax, man. And keep your mouth shut about my stash, alright?"
I didn't bother to acknowledge his grumbling, my feet already carrying me out the door at a dead run. The night air hit me like a slap, cold and sharp against my flushed skin. I jabbed at the key fob, the car's alarm splitting the silence like a scream. I sprinted to the vehicle, wrenched open the door, and flung myself into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life under my shaking hands, and I rammed the shifter into gear, the tires shrieking as I peeled out of the lot.
Every fiber of my being thrummed with urgency, the need to reach Michael consuming me. I wove through the sparse late-night traffic like a man possessed, the speedometer climbing higher with each passing second. The world outside the windows blurred into a smear of shadow and streetlight, the eerie stillness a mocking contrast to the chaos raging inside me.
My mind raced, fragments of the night's revelations crashing through my thoughts in a dizzying whirl. Professor McCarrin's words echoed in my skull, the implications of what we'd seen tightening the knot of dread in my gut with each passing mile. An unseen enemy, closing in on us with every breath. The primal, bone-deep terror of the unknown had sunk its claws into me, the urge to run, to warn the people I loved, the only coherent thought in my head.
A new fear lanced through me, sharp and sudden. My family. Five hours away, oblivious to the nightmare unfolding above our heads. "Shit!" I barked the word like a curse, my hand scrabbling for my phone. "Hey Google! Call Mom!"
The ring seemed to stretch for an eternity, each unanswered second an eternity of agony. When my mother's voice finally came through, I cut her off before she could even finish her greeting. "Mom! Get to safety, now. The bomb shelter, the cottage, anywhere but home. Go!"
I could hear the fear, the confusion in her voice, but there was no time for explanations or reassurances. "Just go, Mom. Please." I ended the call, the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders like a physical burden.
The rest of the drive passed in a blur of asphalt and anxiety, the silence in the car broken only by the hum of the engine and the rasp of my own labored breathing. In my mind's eye, I saw the alien ships, their advanced technology rendering them invisible to our scans as they maneuvered around Jupiter's bulk. A calculated move, a strategy so far beyond our comprehension it defied belief.
The shrill of my ringtone shattered my racing thoughts. I fumbled for the phone, my stomach dropping as I saw Michael's name on the screen. "Alec..." His voice was thin, thready with terror. "Are you seeing this?"
A chill raced down my spine, my mouth going dry. "No, what's happening?"
"They're here. The aliens. They're surrounding the planet."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, the air rushing from my lungs in a ragged gasp. "How? How did they get so close so fast?" The true scope of the situation crashed over me in a wave of nauseating realization. We were not alone in the universe, and our first contact was shaping up to be the stuff of nightmares. An invasion, launched by a species whose capabilities dwarfed our own on an unimaginable scale.
We were pawns on a cosmic chessboard, outmatched and outmaneuvered by an enemy we never even knew existed. The game had changed in an instant, the rules rewritten by an intelligence vast and unfathomable.
"Yeah..." Michael's voice, usually so full of life and humor, was now laced with a fear that mirrored my own. "They're all around us. We tried to reach out, but there's no response... It's like they're just watching, waiting."
"I'm heading your way now. Hold tight, I’ll be there in twenty," I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of panic inside me.
“Make it fast, Alec. This is... it's unreal."
As Michael's words sank in, a chilling understanding washed over me. The night sky, once a canvas of wonder and possibility, now concealed a threat beyond our darkest imaginings. I pressed the accelerator to the floor, my knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as I pushed the car to its limits. There was no more time for fear, for hesitation.
The call ended, cutting off Michael's voice and leaving me with only the roar of the engine and the whirlwind of my thoughts for company. I floored the accelerator, the car surging forward as if it understood the urgency of the situation. The familiar streets of the suburb morphed into an alien landscape, as if the very fabric of reality had shifted off of its axis.
An eerie silence blanketed the night, the usual suburban soundtrack replaced by an occasional distant siren, a haunting counterpoint to the chaos that threatened to engulf us all. My mind conjured up a parade of nightmarish scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. Why us? What did they want? Why now? What could we do? The questions pounded in my skull, a relentless drumbeat of uncertainty. The visitors' motives, their timing, their choice of target - none of it pointed towards a friendly scenario.
As I approached the sorority house, my heart hammered in my chest, a ceaseless rhythm of dread and panic.
The instant the car lurched to a stop, I spilled out, propelled by raw urgency. Ahead, a brutal collision's aftermath barricaded the suburban road—the smoldering ruin of two vehicles fused in catastrophic union. An uncanny desertion hung over the scene, the typical suburban peace shattered by this lone disaster.
Tremors shook the earth beneath my feet, quivering through my soles, an ominous portent reverberating through the hushed neighborhood. Distant sounds punctured the night air—a clamor of alarms and the sporadic thrum of far-off helicopter blades, painting a dire specter across the sky. My heart galloped, its every beat matching the rising terror that coiled around me.
With the road choked by wreckage, abandoning my car became the sole option. I plodded forward on foot, exhaustion and adrenaline warring in my leaden legs. The once-welcoming streets twisted into alien terrain, warped by bedlam and the encroaching panic that saturated the air. People peeked through their blinds, staring at the sky, huddled with their families.
Each step intensified the shaking, a relentless, subterranean vibration that seemed to rise from the planet's core. The thunderous rumble swelled, a menacing crescendo drowning out the night's subtler sounds. Streetlights sputtered overhead, throwing shivering, elongated shadows across the pavement.
Then, as if on cue, a violent shudder coursed through my feet, throwing me off balance. I careened hard onto the concrete and into the side of a car, the impact slamming pain across my face. Blood's metallic taste flooded my mouth. A curse tore from my throat, the sound strangely muffled by the ringing in my ears.
Disoriented, I clawed my way to my knees, my vision blurring as tears mixed with the blood that streamed down my face. The acrid stench of smoke assaulted my nostrils, a bitter reminder of the wreckage I had left behind. Even in the open air, the fumes of scorched rubber and gasoline burned my throat with every ragged breath I managed to draw.
The coppery scent of my own blood was a devastating warning of my vulnerability, its steady drip onto the pavement echoing the rhythm of my racing heart. Desperation and fear intertwined, urging me to move, to find safety. I gripped the nearby vehicle’s bumper, the cold metal a grounding presence as I dragged myself to a sitting position against one of the tires. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs fighting for air as my vision blurred, the world around me reduced to hazy, indistinct shapes. As eerily silent it had only been moments before, now the air was filled with a cacophony of car alarms, shouts, and fleeing footsteps.
Jaw clenched, I thrust my hand upward, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the vehicle's antenna. I clung to it, muscles straining as I wrenched myself upright, an effort that drained me to my marrow. The earth spun beneath me, a dizzying whirlwind that threatened to drag me under.
Then, a familiar voice pierced the fog of my pain. “Alec? Is that you?”
Emily's voice, tinged with fear and concern, cut through the haze. I blinked, struggling to focus as her figure materialized before me, face pale and etched with worry.
"Emily!" Her name escaped my lips in a rasping whisper, each syllable a battle hard-fought. She inched closer, steps tentative.
The adrenaline that had sustained me drained away, leaving me teetering on the precipice of collapse. Strength fled my body, abandoning me to the mercy of exhaustion and pain.
"Help me," I croaked, voice little more than a breath, a whimper that barely reached my own ears. I stretched my arms out towards her and took a faltered step. My legs crumpled, no longer able to bear my weight.
“Alec, oh my god!”
Emily lunged forward, arms outstretched to catch me as I pitched towards the ground. Her wiry strength took me by surprise as she braced herself against the car, shouldering my dead weight. Thank God for farm girls. I sagged against her, immensely grateful for the physical contact, the lifeline she extended.
"Thank God! Michael's been worried sick!" Her hug lasted only a moment, a fleeting respite before she pulled back, brow furrowed with concern.
I managed a weak nod. "You guys okay?" My voice was faint, the effort of speaking immense.
Her gaze darted over my blood-streaked face, a thin veneer of composure masking her fear. "We're okay, Alec. But you…" Her voice trailed off, the reality of my injuries evident in her expression.
“I was fine... until about thirty seconds ago,” I tried to joke, but the humor was lost in the face of grim reality. Grinning made me wince, my head screaming in pain anew. Touching my forehead reopened the gash, sending a fresh rivulet of blood cascading down my face.
Emily flinched, her expression a kaleidoscope of horror and empathy. "I saw you fall... I didn't realize it was this bad. Let's get you inside."
Michael erupted through the front door just as Emily and I reached the steps, worry etched into every line of his face. He froze, transfixed by the blood painting my features. "Shit, Alec, you alright, man?"
"Yeah," I grunted, pain pulsing behind my eyes. "Just took a nasty spill. What the hell caused that shockwave?"
Michael started to reply, but Emily interjected, urgency sharpening her tone. "It's pandemonium out there, Mike. We need to get inside now."
Supported by their combined efforts, I staggered into the living room, legs trembling with each step. My gory appearance triggered a chorus of shrieks from the assembled girls, who scattered like startled birds. My attention snagged on the television in the corner, where chaotic images of fighter jets and helicopters engaged in aerial combat with enigmatic lights played out in lurid detail.
"Any word from the authorities?" I asked, my voice strained as Emily helped me onto the couch.
Michael's eyes never strayed from the screen as he shook his head. "Nothing definitive. Stay put, Alec. No use fretting over what you can't change."
I sank into the cushions, the room careening around me. "A towel, please?" I mumbled, my hand pressed to the wound on my forehead.
Emily hurried away, returning moments later with a damp towel, which she handed to Michael. He sat down beside me, his face drawn.
"Let me check that cut," he said, stern.
I flinched, instinctively pulling away. "I'm fine, Michael. It's just a scratch."
"No, Alec, this looks bad," he insisted, his tone firm. He reached out and, with a swift motion, grabbed my hair, holding my head still. "Let me see, damn it."
With reluctance, I surrendered, my hands falling to my sides. Michael daubed at the blood with a touch far gentler than I expected, uncovering the deep laceration above my eye.
"Christ, Alec..." Michael breathed, his face inches from mine as he examined the wound. His medical training kicked in. "There's debris lodged in here. We need to irrigate this.”
I gave a feeble nod, my eyes drawn to the window where figures streaked past, their forms blurred by panic and confusion. The gravity of our predicament settled like a stone in my gut.
"Fine," I relented, the night's surreal events and searing pain blending into a fog of disbelief. "Just...be quick about it."
Michael probed at the wound again, eyes squinted. “Could be… worse… Where… There it is. Emily. Bring me a water bottle, quick," he snapped his fingers as he spoke, hand out.
"Stitches?" I queried through clenched teeth, my eyes screwed shut against the pain as I tried to focus on anything but Michael’s fingers. His hand slipped and I gasped, eyes flying open. “I am gonna punch you in the nuts if you try to give me field stitches.”
He leaned closer still, his features strained. "No, I don't believe so..." He began, his gaze boring into mine with unsettling intensity. "But Alec, I think you have a concussion. Your pupils are uneven. We need to get you to a hos--"
WHOMP.
Chaos erupted, sudden and absolute. A flash seared my retinas, accompanied by a concussive blast that hurled Michael and I backwards, couch and all. Shards of glass hailed down, razor-sharp and deadly. The wail of screaming engines, keening whines, and human wails crashed over me, a devastating wave of sound.
I choked on the caustic smoke that flooded the room, my lungs seared by each breath. My fingers scrabbled against the floor, desperate for an anchor in the madness. Screams echoed, disembodied and overlapping, punctuated by my own cry of "What the fuck?!"
Staggering to my feet, I hunched under upraised arms and lurched toward the kitchen, shouldering through a press of equally terrified bodies. "Michael! Emily!" I shouted, my voice all but lost in the tumult.
WHOMP.
Another thunderclap of sound hammered down, warping time itself. I hurtled through the air, my trajectory arrested only by the brutal impact against the wall, followed by an unceremonious crash to the floor. Confusion reigned.
WHOMP.
The world strobed, a disorienting flicker of light and shadow. I felt distant, detached, as if observing from afar. A gout of flame shimmered at the edges of my vision, just outside the window.
WHOMP.
Then, as shock and horror closed over me like floodwaters, the welcome black of unconsciousness mercifully swept me away.